Semblance (26 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

When we pulled up to the entrance of the Inferno hotel, the man waiting for us was well dressed—slim cut tuxedo, white gloves, and ink black shoes. His face however was crimson with paint, transforming his visage into something demonic.

He greeted us with a razorblade smile.

“Welcome to the Inferno,” he said, gesturing towards the brightly lit entrance of the hotel. From outside, you couldn’t tell the hotel was still under construction, aside from the upper floors of the high rise building, which were still a skeletal frame of support beams and concrete.

Shadow wasted no time attacking the man, slamming him against the outer brick wall. “Where are my sister and the others?” He pulled a gun from behind his back and jammed it under the demon-faced man’s chin. “Answer me now or I’m painting the veranda of my hotel with your brain splatter.”

“They’re inside,” the man replied calmly, ignoring the threat of the gun. “I assure you, they’re all safe and unharmed.”

“Unharmed?” Lincoln exploded, pulling out the box and opening it, revealing Calisto’s severed finger inside. “You call this fucking unharmed?”

“If they can still breathe on their own accord, then yes, I’d say they’re in good shape,” he replied. 

“Who are you people?” Shadow spat, “And what do you want?”

“I’m nobody,” he replied. “However, I do work for
somebody
. You’ll find out who that is inside.”

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you in the face right now,” Shadow threatened.

“Any harm that comes to me or any of the employees inside will result in the immediate termination of one of your friends, chosen at random.”

Shadow released his grip on the man and let his gun drop to his side. “You’re a smug piece of shit.”

“Guilty as charged. Now, if you have your temper under control, the three of you may enter.”

The explosive sound of gunfire startled me. The smug man grabbed his kneecap, which was now a bloody mess, and crumpled to the floor screaming.

“You asshole!” he cried as tears smeared the makeup on his face, “You fucking asshole!”

“What are you whining about?” Lincoln asked, the gun in his hand still smoking. “You can still breathe on your own accord. According to your definition, you’re not harmed.”

We entered into the hotel, leaving the wounded man screaming outside.

Inside, a petite woman with long flowing hair the color of plums greeted us. She was dressed in a provocative white-laced night gown. She was completely bare underneath.

“Welcome,” she said with a seductive smile as she walked over to Shadow and placed her hands firmly against his chest. “You feel so warm.”

“You rotten-crotched slut,” I blurted out loud.

“Sticks and stones Ms. Valencia,” she said, flashing me a wide grin. What was with these people? Was there some requirement to be a smug piece of crap in order to work here?

I sent telepathic signals to Lincoln to shoot her in the kneecaps as well, but alas, no such luck. Instead, I contemplated rearranging her face with the heel of my Jimmy Choos.

My teeth ground together with the force of tectonic plates shifting as I watched the little temptress reach up to her tip toes and plant a gentle kiss on Shadow’s lips who—much to my relief—made no effort to return the favor.

“Don’t kiss me again,” Shadow said.

“Why?” the temptress asked. “Afraid to experience a real woman while your precious not-so-Golden Virgin is around?”

“No,” Shadow replied. “I have no idea where your lips have been, but I assume nowhere clean.”

Suddenly her slutty disposition melted away into a sour demeanor.

“Homo,” she stated coldly.

“As an advocate of equality, I’m going to call you an ignorant wench,” Lincoln said, pointing his gun at her. “I must also state that I’m equally opportune in blasting kneecaps as well. I’m sure you can still hear your co-worker screaming outside. Unless your employer offers an outstanding physical therapy benefits package, I advise you get to the point and take us to our friends.”

I turned to Lincoln and grinned. “You read my mind.”

“Follow me,” she muttered as she began leading us down a long red velvet-inspired hallway.

After minutes of walking through a series of elegant corridors, I was curious of our destination. “Where is she leading us?” I asked.

“It looks to be the gambling suites,” Shadow replied. “It’s where all the private card games are held.”

Eventually we stopped in front of double doors.

“Inside,” the slut said.

Shadow gave her a suspicious glance.

“Standing here won’t help your friends,” she said.

“Sink or swim,” Lincoln whispered, pushing open the doors.

It was a spine tingling scene, reminiscent of Shadow’s party. Surrounding us were people wearing masks, similar to the ones I saw before. In fact, I even recognized some of the people in the crowd.

At the centre of the room were Donald Huff, Brevin West, and James Takeshi; still in their business suits, gagged, and tied to chairs. Luckily they were still alive.

They were situated around a circular table where at the centre were four silver-colored six-shooter pistols. Each one was well polished and glowed with a brilliant luster underneath the overhead lights. Behind them stood a woman in a black cocktail dress, wearing an owl’s mask. She held a giant mallet, one that could be used to strike a large gong that was beside her.

“What the hell is this?” Shadow asked.

Silence from the crowd.

“Answer my question,” Shadow demanded. “What’s going on here? And where’s Calisto?”

Out of the mass of onlookers emerged the man cloaked in black, the same individual that was seen hovering over Calisto in the image sent to Shadow’s phone.

“If you want to save your friends, you’ll have to gamble,” the man said, his baritone voice sounding filtered through a voice scrambler.

Both Shadow and Lincoln drew their guns on him.

“Who are you?” Shadow asked.

“You may call me Sinister,” the cloaked man replied.

“Did you kill my parents?”

Sinister unleashed a bone-rattling laugh. “You’re still fixated on the past, are you?”

“You fucking slashed their throats,” Shadow stated.

“Yes.”

“Tell me why you did it,” Shadow demanded, taking a step forward.

“Later Shadow, later. First let’s see if you can save your friends.”

“How about I shoot you in the neck instead,” Shadow threatened, his gun still pointed towards Sinister.

“An eye-for-an-eye,” Sinister said. Five men emerged from the crowd of onlookers, all in demon face paint, similar to the man who Lincoln had shot. “You may end my life with a bullet, but I promise you that once I die, none of you will be left standing either, including your precious love, the Golden Virgin.”

Shadow reluctantly lowered his weapon, his face a mask of anger.

“Take their guns,” Sinister ordered.

The masked demons obeyed and began scouring both Lincoln and Shadow for their weapons. When it was done and their guns were stripped away, Sinister turned to Shadow. “You always were easily intimidated. I guess her pussy must have some intoxicating power over you. For twenty years you tried to find me, and now that you have, you’re willing to let the sweet nectar of revenge escape your lips without so much as a taste. Tell me, does the bitch’s snatch taste that much better?”

“Fuck you,” Shadow cursed.

“Who are you?” Lincoln asked. “You seem to know us.”

Sinister didn’t reply. Instead he turned his attention to the three captives at the table. “Let’s try saving your friends now, shall we? Who will play?”

“You’re insane,” Shadow said.

Sinister turned to our direction and stared at us with dark eyes.

“You’re one to talk Shadow. We’re all a little insane in the end, don’t you think?” he asked. “Now I’ll ask again, who wants to play the game? It’s the only way to save any of them.”

“What if we say no?” Shadow spat.

Sinister sighed as he pulled out a gun from his cloak. Before any of us could protest, he point
ed the gun at Donald Huff’s chest and pulled the trigger.

It was hard to tell what came first, the explos
ive sound of gunfire or Donald’s body going limp.

I was too stunned to make a sound, but James and Brevin weren’t. Their eyes were wide open—screaming—as they moved frantically in their seats, horrified by the death of their friend.

“Oh Christ,” Lincoln said as he dropped to his knees in disbelief.

“I’ve always been intolerant of indecisiveness,” Sinister said. “A lack of patience is a flaw of mine. Now, I ask again, who’s ready to gamble?”

“I’ll do it,” Lincoln said, rising to his feet.

“Have a seat,” Sinister instructed. Two demon-faced men strolled up behind Lincoln and gripped his arms like a prisoner, forcing him to sit in the empty seat at the table where the pistols rested atop of it. One of the demon men removed a pistol, leaving three guns at the table for the three men.

I feared what came next.

Lincoln looked the other two in the eyes.

“We’ll die with dignity,” Lincoln said.

Brevin looked at him, tears streaming down his dark skinned cheeks. Eventually he nodded in agreement.

“The game is very simple,” Sinister said. “I’m fascinated by high stake games of chance. I enjoy the mystique and magic behind the aspect of luck, which is why I’ve chosen for the three of you to play the romantic game of Russian roulette.”

“Lincoln, don’t!” Shadow cried out upon revelation of what Sinister had planned. “Don’t do this. Let me play instead.”

Lincoln turned to us and smiled sadly. “Forget it Shadow,” he said. “Lady Luck never liked you much. Let me play with that bitch tonight.”

“Don’t play this game,” Shadow stated. “You take Aria and walk on out of here. I’ll play for all of us.” It was clear to me how much Shadow valued his friend’s life.

“They won’t let us leave Shadow,” Lincoln said, turning to Sinister. “He’s here to watch us burn.”

“If Lincoln wins the game, you’ll let him go?” Shadow asked.

“Only if he wins the game,” Sinister replied. “I swear on the souls of my mother and father, whoever survives shall leave this place a free man.”

“Enough talk, let’s play then,” Lincoln said. He turned to both Brevin and James. “I’m sorry guys, but this is all I can offer you—a chance to live by killing me.”

Both James and Brevin seemed to acknowledge Lincoln’s words. Their lives were now in the hands of fate.

“There’s a single bullet in each of the guns. The three of you will unlock the chamber, spin it, and lock it again,” Sinister explained. “You will then point the gun to the person on your left and pull the trigger every time the gong is struck. Only when someone dies does this round end.”

Knife in hand, one of the demon-faced men cut the straps that bound the hands of James and Brevin.

Anxiety filled my gut as I watched each of the three men reach for the pistols in front of them. I turned to Shadow to see if his nerves were as ratt
led as mine, but his face had become expressionless. His eyes however—those eyes of his had been touched by flames, watching the game unfold as if he were watching the world burn.

“Spin,” Sinister ordered.

Lincoln opened up the chamber of the gun and stared at the single bullet inside the barrel.

“Spin,” Sinister repeated.

The three did as they were told, rolling the palms of their hands across the cylinders of their guns, sending the single bullet twirling in a vortex of deadly chance.

“Load,” Sinister instructed. I closed my eyes and heard the clicking of three guns and I took a deep breath. I was ashamed to say it, but I prayed that James and Brevin—two innocent men—would die. I wanted Lincoln to walk away from this.

“Aim.”

My eye
s remained closed. I already watched Donald die. I had no desire to see it happen to another person.

“Pull at the sound of each gong,” Sinister ordered.

There was a moment of lingering silence. I heard the beating of my heart which echoed like war drums.

And then the sound of the gong cut through the silence and reverberated throughout the room.

Click.

The gong struck again.

Click.

It wasn’t until after the third strike that the sound of gunfire erupted, followed by a loud groan.

I opened my eyes just in time to see Brevin slump over in his chair and fall to the floor. The tip of Lincoln’s gun was smoking.

“I’m sorry Brevin,” Lincoln was near hysterical. “I’m so sorry.”

“I never liked Brevin,” Sinister said. “Some say it’s unethical to sell drugs, weapons, and sex, but honestly is selling false faith any more ethical?”